Red Memory
by Meimicchi
Summary: [Spoilers for Seishirou's sidestory and drama.] A piece on one of the more minor characters, as she contemplates the beauty of camiella flowers and of her own approaching death.


Red Memory  
5/26/01  
by Meimi -meimi@time-stranger.net-  
[Spoilers for Seishirou's sidestory and Character File drama]  
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I'm not insane.  
  
  
Some people think I am. But I can assure you that I should not   
be avoided or feared because I am 'insane'.  
  
  
*He once said to me, "You like the camellias more than cherry   
blossoms?"*  
  
  
*"I am the cherry."*  
  
  
It's not that I'm insane. To be insane, you must be crazy with   
passion for something. To go insane with love for something. Or with   
blind, raging hatred...or for instance, with loss.  
  
  
I've seen insanity. It's dwelled in the eyes of every one of   
those I have hunted; in the final moments when the chase ends. Their   
passion for life peaking in those few final seconds, their eyes filling  
with love and fear and anger all at once...and then to go dead.  
  
  
I've seen it enough times to know how it looks. So I know I'm   
not, you see. I don't think I have the lust for life to go crazy. What   
I do...that isn't insanity.  
  
  
Coming home from each trip outside with a white kimono newly   
stained bright red...that's not insanity.  
  
  
I am Sakurazukamori.  
  
  
Few who who know the name can understand. It isn't that our   
clan is mad with bloodlust that we kill.  
  
  
It's in our name. In our blood. Each of us are born with the   
sakura's will woven into our beings, its neverending longing for   
murder. It's the tree that asks for the bloodshed. The tree that calls   
for sacrifice, for the red camellia flowers to drift softly atop the   
crimson-stained snow, for the pink petals to turn gradually redder,   
one by one, and then fall soundlessly down in red rain...  
  
  
The tree demands it all.  
  
  
But nobody can ever seem to understand it's the sakura that is   
insane. So the duty falls to our clan, who are little more than   
messengers of the madness, to pick up the name of the murderers.  
  
  
That's all right. I don't mind.  
  
  
They can call me insane if they like. They can watch me behind   
barred doors. They can keep on trying to wash the blood out of my   
kimono sleeves.  
  
  
The blood never comes out, but I prefer it that way. It's   
beautiful. Like the camellia resting on the snow, and staining it that   
way. I have a kimono with a design like that, but this one is just as   
lovely.  
  
  
Beautiful.  
  
  
It's just we're the only ones that see the beauty in the blood.  
  
  
We love pretty things, and the splattering of blood as a life   
ends...it's quite beautiful in its own way, don't you think?...well.   
That's why we kill instead of you. If you just look at   
it from another point of view...it's such a beautiful sight.  
  
  
I like the bright red that spreads across the world, when I   
kill.  
  
  
It isn't that I don't like cherry blossoms. The cherry blossoms  
are a part of me, and I find beauty in them the way I do in my own   
reflection...but camellia flowers. They can really be red. The cherry  
tree's petals turn gradually darker shades of pink, but it's probably   
impossible to kill so many as to make them really crimson.  
  
  
Till that day comes, I'll keep on picking the camellias to   
wear in my hair. I'll keep on embracing you with bloodstained hands-   
you don't think anything of it, after all.  
  
  
That's why I love you.  
  
  
From the day we met years ago, I chose you as the one I would   
love. The one I wanted to be killed by. Only you could understand. Only  
you would feel that same pink-petaled throb echoing through your veins,  
someday.  
  
  
Only you would be able to kill me, and realize how wonderfully   
beautiful that act would be.  
  
  
I thought each time I killed, that someday it would be me on   
the other side of the attack. Someday, my heart would be pierced by   
your hand, and you would hold me in my sea of blood. And you would   
smile so calmly, in the same way I always smile at those I kill,   
because it shall be such a lovely shade of red.  
  
  
After I am killed by you, your life as the Sakurazukamori shall  
go on. A world marked by illusion, cherry blossom petals, and the fun   
of the chase. It will suit you, because you were born for that life as   
much as I was. You will spend your days drenched in blood, and one kill  
shall not differ much from the next.  
  
  
But someday, you shall meet someone.  
  
  
Someone who you shall fall in love with.  
  
  
*"I can't love anyone, Mother. You, who gave birth to me,   
should know that."*  
  
  
Yes...I thought so as well. When my own mother told me I would   
fall in love one day, I laughed at her softly and sent her to rest   
beneath the cherry tree with all the others before her.  
  
  
But I met you. My child. My child, because you are the chosen   
one of the sakura as I am.  
  
  
When I met you, I knew you would be the only one who could   
make my Wish come true: to make a pretty death.  
  
  
I've dreamt of the day you will kill me. I have the entire   
scene planned out in my head- I shall embrace you with bloody sleeves,   
and tell you how much I love you. You can lie and say you love me, too.  
It's a lie because you just love how pretty I am, and a dead beauty is   
just as beautiful as one alive. More beautiful, really. And your   
hand shall strike true with no warning, but I will know of its approach  
nonetheless.  
  
  
You will kiss my bloodied lips for the last time as I rest in   
your arms.  
  
  
It will be the most happiest, most lovely moment in my life.  
  
  
*"Yes...I thought so, too. But then I met you..."*  
  
  
I shall be thrown to the sakura, like the thousands before me.   
You will not remember me except in passing, and then I shall be a   
fleeting memory of beauty and the first blood you spilled.  
  
  
But from time to time, think of me that way as you look at the   
tree that will be my grave. And no matter if the cherry blossoms whirl   
in jealous anger...if you think of it, lay camellias at the foot of the  
sakura. Let them be an example to the cherry tree, of a crimson shade   
it should endeavor to achieve.  
  
  
And smile.  
  
  
Always smile.  
  
  
Because someday, you shall meet that person that will break   
through to your heart without even trying. Someone that will not press   
for you to change, will not call you 'insane'...but be someone that you  
can exist with.  
  
  
Like it was for you and I, that person will be the one you   
were born to meet.  
  
  
Smile for them, as the sakura petals rain down on you both.   
Love them as much as the heart of a killer can, because someday your   
life shall be ended by their hand.  
  
  
There is no greater joy, my darling.  
  
  
So until that fated day comes for me...let me keep on loving   
you. 


End file.
